


I'll hold you if you let me

by thewolvescalledmehome



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, Hugs, Jon and the Starks Are Not Related, Jonsa Summer Challenge, R plus L equals J
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-12-02 20:39:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11517045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewolvescalledmehome/pseuds/thewolvescalledmehome
Summary: Sansa thinks Jon doesn't get enough hugs (she's right).For Day 7 of the Jonsa S7 Summer Challenge: Author's Choice





	I'll hold you if you let me

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a comment posted on a gif set by notthehound on Tumblr about how Ned probably wasn't a hugger and Jon's most likely starved for human contact.

The first time Sansa noticed she was old enough to know it was significant but she didn’t think it was that big of a deal at the time.

It was when Robb and Jon graduated high school. They were all stood around in the hallway, Robb and Jon in their black graduation robes with the grey tassels hanging in their faces. Both of her parents were beaming with pride, but it was the way they expressed their pride that Sansa noticed. Ned shook both of their hands, which was relatively normal for Ned. That was his preferred form of affection with his sons—and Jon. The other fathers around them were hugging their sons, but that wasn’t the Stark way.

That wasn’t the Tully way. Catelyn had thrown her arms around Robb as soon as he broke through the crowd of parents and younger siblings. When Jon appeared behind him, she patted his arm. Sansa was floored at the obvious difference between how she interacted with Robb and Jon. She was confused. She thought it could have been because they were in public. Jon wasn’t her son. He wasn’t family. Maybe she thought it would be strange or improper. Sansa didn’t know, but she was sure there was a valid reason for Catelyn not hugging Jon. Sansa hadn’t either, to be fair. Arya was the only one who did.

When they went home and there were two laptops waiting for them as graduation presents, Sansa didn’t think anything else of it. She was reading too much into things. Her parents treated Robb and Jon the same way, even if Catelyn hadn’t hugged Jon.

Plus, what did she know? She was fifteen and knew very little about Jon Snow.

Even when they were younger and he came over during the holidays with his mum, she didn’t remember him being hugged, not by anyone in her family at least. He probably just didn’t like being hugged.

 

* * *

 

Sansa tried to push it from her mind, but for some reason it stuck. She started to pay more attention when they were all together.

The first time Robb and Jon came home from college, Catelyn again threw her arms around one but not the other. But they were in public this time too. Catelyn and Sansa had driven to the bus stop to pick them up. Catelyn asked the boys the same questions; it was just the hug that was different. This time she knew to watch Jon’s face, to see if his expression changed or if he even realized that Catelyn wouldn’t hug him. His grey eyes gave nothing away and his face was stoic.

When they got home, Ned shook both of their hands and Arya launched herself at Jon. Sansa watched Jon this time too, looking to see if how he reacted to being hugged. The way Jon gripped Arya, his eyes squeezed tight, told her that her earlier assumption was wrong.

But then again, maybe it wasn’t. Maybe he just didn’t want to be hugged by Catelyn. She couldn’t blame him if that was the case. She hadn’t exactly been thrilled when he showed up with the social worker. Maybe he still harbored a grudge.

 

* * *

 

By the time they were back from their first year of college, Sansa saw a pattern. Arya was the only one in the family who ever hugged Jon. She thought she should do something about it. Why was he never hugged?

She was standing outside her parents’ room the week after they came home, debating. What should she say? What _could_ she say? _Mum, I’ve noticed you never hug Jon and that’s not fair to him._ Catelyn would just turn it back on her. Sansa was pretty sure the only time she’d ever hugged Jon was after the funeral.

Plus, Ned never hugged Jon either, even when they were kids and he still hugged Robb. And she knew her father loved Jon. Loved him enough to take him in. It must be something on his end, she realized. And if her parents were obeying his wishes, then she could hardly fault them for that. Sansa left before she said anything.

* * *

 

Sansa didn’t think about it again for three years. Her solution of him asking not to be hugged was enough to push it from her mind, until they were in a situation mirroring the one where she noticed it.

Robb and Jon were graduating college, again in black robes. She watched as the same situation played out: Ned shaking their hands, Catelyn hugging Robb, patting Jon’s arm, Arya pouncing on Jon. Her younger brothers, both thinking themselves adults and the replicas of Ned, shook both of their hands. Sansa hugged Robb and offered Jon congratulations.

It was Arya that made her think of it again.

Arya _always_ hugged Jon, even when—or despite the fact that—no one else did. Sansa tried to reason that Arya was young when Jon came to live with them. She’d been ten, which meant that Arya would’ve been eight. Eight-year-old Arya was just as stubborn as eighteen year old Arya and twice as oppositional. If their parents had told her not to hug Jon, that’s exactly what she would have done. He must’ve just tolerated it because he didn’t want to hurt her feelings. Sansa knew that much for sure—Jon would never hurt Arya’s feelings.

Sansa was still thinking about Jon and Arya when she went to bed that night. Arya was the one in the family he was closest too, even before. When he came with his mum for holidays it was always Arya he played with, even though he was only a few months younger than Robb and five years older than her. If anyone knew why Catelyn didn’t hug Jon, it would be Arya.

Throwing her covers off, Sansa padded to her door and down the hall. Her sister’s door was shut, but there was light coming from underneath and she heard music. She knocked softly.

“Arya?” The music stopped and the light flipped off. Sansa rolled her eyes. “Seven hells, it’s not Mum, it’s me.” The light came back on but it was another thirty seconds of Sansa sighing before Arya opened the door.

“What?”

“Can I come in?” Arya frowned. It was the same face she made when she used to get stuck on math problems.

“Why?”

“Sisterly bonding?” Sansa shrugged. Arya let out a barking laugh and started to close the door on her. Sansa stuck her foot in the door. “No, wait. I actually wanted to talk to you.”

“Fine,” she huffed, as if it was some massive inconvenience to her. “Don’t touch anything.” Sansa almost laughed at that. When they were younger, Sansa always said the same thing to Arya. She wondered briefly when their roles switched.

“I have a question for you. About Jon.” Arya’s eyebrows rose and she suddenly looked interested. She perched halfway up the latter to her lofted bed and Sansa sat in her computer chair. “So I’ve noticed something, and I don’t know if it’s a big deal or not. I thought you might know.”

“You’ve noticed something about Jon?” The shock in Arya’s voice hurt. Sansa didn’t think it was that bad. It wasn’t as though she avoided him. They could hold conversation. If they were left alone it wasn’t just awkward silence and looking anywhere but each other. She was better than Catelyn was around him—or she hoped she was. Jon was just never interested in her. Not when he had Robb and Arya and the boys.

“Am I that horrible?” she asked quietly. Her sister would be honest. She was the only one who would be honest. Everyone else saw her as the pleasant, polite, tactful Stark daughter. She knew Arya thought all of it was bullshit. Sansa didn’t think being polite was bullshit, but she knew it could make her come off as cold sometimes.

“Not horrible, no. I mean you could be worse—far, far worse. I just didn’t realize you cared enough about Jon to notice much of anything about him.” Sansa opened her mouth. “I’m not trying to be mean,” Arya added, holding her hands up. “So, what’d you want to ask me?”

“Have you noticed… Did you know you’re the only one who hugs Jon?” Arya’s face changed so fast that Sansa could only identify the final one that settled over her face: guarded. It was the same expression that Jon typically wore.

“What about it?”

“Well, Mum always hugs Robb and not Jon. Even when we were younger, before he came to live with us, no one hugged him but you. Does he not like being hugged…or is it something else…?” Sansa started organizing Arya’s desk. She needed to do something with her hands. She needed to look anywhere but Arya, whose expression was the opposite of what Sansa thought it would be. She thought Arya would be proud of her for noticing—for coming to her, for caring. Arya almost looked angry though.

“What do you think, Sansa?” She knew it was a rhetorical question. Arya thought her question was stupid. She thought Sansa should know the answer, be able to figure it out.

“Fine,” she muttered. Sansa left the desk half organized and started for the door. She hesitated for just a moment when reached it, waiting to see if her sister would say anything else, but the music started up again and Sansa knew the conversation was done.

 

* * *

 

Sansa knew now that the fact he was never hugged was not his choice, but she still didn’t know what she could do about it. He was an adult now. Maybe if they were all still kids her saying something to her parents would mean more, but not now. Jon would be moving out soon, getting a job, having an adult life. She would be too in two years. They would only see each other on holidays. He would meet someone who would hug him. There was nothing she could do now.

 

* * *

 

“Jon, you’ve got mail,” Ned called. Sansa saw his head jerk up out of the corner of her eye. Sansa looked up too. Jon rarely got mail. She was pretty sure the only time she remembered him getting mail was after he applied to college. Ned muttered something to Jon when he handed him the letter. To her surprise, Jon left the room to read it.

Sansa suddenly wished Arya was there. Arya would follow him to make sure he was all right. But Arya was at school already. She was starting her first year of college and had to move in a couple weeks early, so she was at school and everyone else was still home.

Instead of following the way Arya would’ve, Sansa watched the hallway anxiously. She wasn’t sure how long it would take him to read a letter, but she thought he’d been gone a long time. She hoped he was all right.

It wasn’t until dinner that Jon reappeared. His normally guarded face was blank and it told Sansa not to ask about the letter. Ned must’ve known what it contained though, because when Jon sat down he gripped his shoulder briefly. It was what passed as a hug for the Starks, so whatever was in the letter must have been bad.

They didn’t mention it at all during dinner and Jon disappeared as soon as the kitchen was clean. Sansa wanted to text Arya for advice, ask what she would do, if she knew what the letter was about, but she knew how she’d answer. Something similar to how she responded when Sansa asked about Jon being hugged.

 

* * *

 

Sansa was sitting on her window seat when she saw the light. Someone was walking through the backyard. She squinted, trying to see who it was, but that question was quickly answered when they started climbing the big tree in the yard. Then the light in the tree house flicked on. Arya and Jon’s tree house. They built it together when Jon was sixteen and Arya was eleven. Once it was finished, Arya hung a sign on the outside that read _No girls allowed (except for me obviously)._ It was _their_ place, but she didn’t think she ever saw Jon go in it alone. She was also pretty sure he hadn’t been in there since he graduated from high school. Whatever he got in that letter was bad, really bad, if he was going in the tree house. Sansa was pulling on pants before she even thought about it.

She tapped lightly on the wood before poking her head around. The surprise on his face was more emotion than she’d seen from him since he graduated.

“How’d you know I was in here?” he asked, as she sat down next to him. Sansa saw the letter poking out from between the floorboards, as if he’d hurriedly shoved it somewhere when she knocked.

“Saw the light on your phone from my window.” She paused, picking at the nail polish on her thumb. “I wanted to make sure you were all right. You were quiet at dinner.” He turned away, and she knew that was his answer. “Do you wanna talk about it?” Jon let out a harsh, bitter laugh and tossed the letter in her lap.

The envelope had been hastily torn open, but it was creased enough that she knew Jon must’ve been fiddling with it since he opened it. Inside was another envelope and a piece of paper. The envelope was addressed to a _Rhaegar Targaryen._ The return address was Jon’s. It was unopened. She wasn’t sure who the person was—she was pretty sure she’d never heard that name. Even so, Sansa still felt the rejection of returning a letter unopened. She turned to the letter, looking for explanation.

 

_Jon,_

_I’m sorry to do this. I tried to get him to open it, I did, but if you knew your father you’d understand._

_He was so sorry to hear about your mother. I would’ve sent flowers, but we were travelling when we heard. Please thank Ned for us, for everything he’d done for you. I hate to say this, but you are far, far better off with Ned and the Starks than you would be with us. Your mother made the right choice. You belong with them. Please understand that he loves you in his own way._

_If you need us in the future, please contact me and not your father._

_Wishing you all the best,_

_Elia Martell-Targaryen_

Sansa saw the fears drop onto the page before she realized she was crying. Rhaegar was Jon’s father. She looked at the unopened envelope again. _He tried to contact him and the bastard didn’t even open it._

Sansa remembered Jon’s mother—her and Ned had been best friends throughout high school and college. She stood up for him when he married Catelyn. He always called her the sister he never had. She was beautiful and stubborn as hell, according to her parents. Ned always talked about her. Until she died when Jon was eleven.

For all she remembered hearing about Lyanna, Sansa couldn’t remember a single thing ever said about his father. All she knew was that he was never a part of Jon’s life. Sansa had assumed that he was dead—why else would Jon come to live with Ned unless he didn’t have any relatives? Now she kind of wished she was right.

“Jon, I…” She didn’t know what to say. What _could_ she say? _I’m sorry your father is a fucking asshole?_

Instead she didn’t say anything. She threw her arms around him, the way no one in her family seemed to. Jon froze.

In the seconds after all of the reasons Sansa conjured up over the last seven years for her family never hugging Jon flashed in her head. But then his arms were around her. He held her so tight it was almost hard to breathe. She held him tighter, wrapping her arms as far around his torso as she could. His head fell into her shoulder and she was pretty sure he was crying. She wished she could do more, more than just hold on, but in that moment she thought it was enough. She would hold him for the rest of her life if it eased any of his pain.


End file.
